


Fair's the last thing it is

by daisynorbury



Series: Full of Married Men [2]
Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: B.J.'s sympathetic, Episode: s04ep19 Some 38th Parallels, Everyone loved Henry, Gen, Henry's dead, Radar's grieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6229666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisynorbury/pseuds/daisynorbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Radar and B.J. talk; Hawkeye and B.J. talk; Radar and B.J. talk again. Henry and Peg are missed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fair's the last thing it is

**Author's Note:**

> I plagiarized one line from Annie Proulx.

“I did everything I could, Radar.”  
“How could he be alive like that one second and dead the next?”  
“There’s not much more than that in it.”  
“It’s not fair.”  
“Fair’s the last thing it is.”  
“I mean- you operated on him twice.”  
“The damage was just too extensive. I could give you a lot of medical reasons, but understanding doesn’t make it less painful.”  
“We got to be friends. In just a few hours.”  
“Friends don’t need more.”  
“Gee I hope I don’t cry.”  
“It’s no sin, Radar.”  
“When was the last time you felt like crying, sir?”  
“What time is it?”

-B.J. and Radar in “Some 38th Parallels”

* * *

_Dear Peggy,_  
_I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned Henry Blake. He was CO here before Potter. It’s clear that everyone liked him (except Frank and Margaret, of course). Apparently he got his orders about the same time I did, and shipped out just a week before I arrived. And when he was flying home, his plane got shot down and everyone in it was killed. So I inherited some very sad people. Insult to injury, side of debilitating grief._

_Last week I had a patient with a severe head wound. Pvt Phelan. I did what I could. Post-op was so packed that we had to stash him in the hallway for a while. And of course we’d run out of stands so we just nailed his IV bag to the wall. Later Radar came to get me because he’d noticed a problem with the drip. If he hadn’t, Phelan would’ve died right there. I told Radar he’d probably saved his life. Which, in retrospect, I regret. Maybe. I can’t decide if I do or not. When Phelan woke up Radar befriended him. They chatted, played cards, built a jigsaw. And a couple hours later Phelan took a nosedive. I operated again. No use. Use. Used. I hate that I’m getting used to never getting used to it._

_Radar took it hard, no surprise. I talked to him about it for awhile. I told him that the last thing Phelan was thinking about before he died was that he’d made a friend. I said, “ He came to Korea and it was awful but despite everything, he met you, and you two had a good time together. You gave him that.” And I guess that was the wrong- or right- thing to say because he pulled off his glasses, stuck his fists in his eyes, slumped over, and whispered, “I miss Henry.”_

_I figured he meant that he thought Blake could have saved Phelan where I couldn’t. I apologized again for losing him and said I wished I’d had the chance to meet Blake. (A lie. Another grief I don’t need.) This was the rest of the conversation:_  
_Radar: “He was the best.”_  
_Me: “The father you barely had, I hear.”_  
_R: “More than that.”_  
_Me: “Tell me about him.”_

_And then his face went from sad to thoughtful to smiling in a couple seconds, then angry, then back to sad, and then inexplicably terrified. He shot me a look and then got up and sped out the door. Radar doesn’t always make a lot of sense to me, but that was strange even for him._

* * *

B.J. was writing a letter in his bunk when Hawkeye returned to the Swamp. Hawkeye kicked the bottom of his outstretched boot gently. “Ask me again how my date was.”  
He put down his pen and grinned. “Okay, how was your date?”  
Hawkeye put on his customary mock-shocked face. “I told you: I don’t kiss and tell.”  
“Fine. Then ask me how _my_ date was.”  
Shock-face morphed to puzzled. “You had a date?”  
“No.”  
“Oh. Well I guess I deserved that.”  
“But I did have an odd conversation with Radar earlier today.”  
Hawkeye flopped into his bunk. “Did he try to sell you shoes?”  
“What?”  
“Forget it. What was odd?”  
“Why is he afraid to talk about Blake?”  
Hawkeye blinked. “What did you ask him?”  
B.J. shrugged. “Nothing specific. He was pretty broken up about Phelan. We were talking about it and out of the blue he said he missed Henry. So I asked about him and Radar gave me this scared look and ran away. I tried to follow but he must have hidden somewhere. I guessed he didn’t want to be found, so I let it go. I know it’s still an open wound, but… Sad I get, but scared?”

Hawkeye sat up slowly, stood, walked over to the still, refilled his glass, returned to his bunk, and sat down again. “B.J.”  
“Hawkeye?”  
Hawkeye sniffed at his drink. “Radar’s had it twice as hard as the rest of us. Thrice. Ten times. We lost a friend, but he lost…”  
“A father. You said.”  
“More than that.”  
“And _he_ said _that_ , which was when- and why- I asked. And then he split."  
Hawkeye nodded. “They thought no one knew.”  
“Knew what?”  
Hawkeye sipped at his martini. “And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who did, and officially I don’t, so you don’t either. Got it?”  
“Got it. Knew what?”  
“That Henry and Radar were... Henry and Radar.”  
B.J.’s head moved very slowly forward on his neck as he processed this new information. “Hawk, are you saying…?”  
“Not in the US army in 1952 I’m sure as hell not, no. And you didn’t hear it from me.”  
B.J. tried two or three times to start a question. “H-...?” He coughed. “W-...?” He shook his head. “How old was Blake?”  
“Forty-four.”  
“Jesus.”  
“Henry was a decade older than Jesus. Just as dead, though.”  
“I can’t... Are you sure?”  
“Only that two or three nights a week- when we weren’t up to ours ears in wounded- Radar slipped quietly into Henry’s tent around midnight and slipped out again before six.”  
“That doesn’t prove anything.”  
“No, you’re right, it doesn’t. But there’s only one bunk in that tent.” Hawkeye lifted his glass in B.J.’s direction. “Cheers.” He emptied it.  
B.J.’s voice was very low. “Poor Radar.”  
“Think what you want, but it seemed to me like that relationship was good for both of them.”  
“No, I’m not condemning Blake. I’m just sorry for Radar losing him. D’you know if Henry was his first?"  
"First and only, as far as I know. He was engaged to a girl back home when he got here, but the war ended that pretty quick."  
B.J. nodded, then changed his mind and shook his head the other direction. “Well, that explains the fear.”  
“Radar was the one who got the call from the army. I mean when Henry’s plane went down. To this day I have no idea how he managed to read it out to us during surgery. It kills me to think what his life will be when he goes home to Iowa. War widow at nineteen and nobody to talk to about it.”  
“I doubt he has anybody _here_ to talk to about it, much less stateside.”  
“You gonna try?”  
“Yep.”  
“Good. I hope you do better than I did. Know what you’ll say?”  
“Nope.” B.J. pulled off his hat and tossed it back and forth a couple times. “Maybe I’ll tell him about Paul.”  
“Who’s Paul?”  
“Peg’s brother. Strong family resemblance.”  
“And he’s…?” Hawkeye extended a hand, fingers splayed, and rotated his wrist a few times.  
“Not at all. I love that girl more than life, and never admit to myself that maybe I picked the sister because the brother _isn’t._ ”  
“Beej, are you saying…?”  
“Not in the US army in 1952 I’m sure as hell not. I’m not in the same way that Paul’s not.”  
Hawkeye stared at him for several seconds, eyebrows lifting slowly. “Does Peg know?”  
“Not that I know of.”  
“This might not be the least negative conversation I’ve never had.”  
“You wouldn’t know better than I wouldn’t.”

* * *

B.J. stepped into the foyer outside Potter’s office that doubled as the camp communications hub and tripled as Radar’s bedroom. He set one of the two cups of coffee he’d been carrying down on the desk by Radar’s elbow. Radar looked up. “Oh hey, Captain Hunnicutt. Did you wanna see Colonel Potter?”  
“No, just thought you might like some coffee.”  
“Oh yeah? Thanks, that’s really swell.” He picked it up and took a swig.  
“And I was wondering if we could have a conversation when you’re off duty.”  
“A conversation, sir?”  
“Yeah, you know: chat. Shoot the breeze.”  
“Uh, okay. Mess tent?”  
“Mess tent’s a little crowded. Walk after dinner?”  
“Okay, sure.”  
B.J. smiled and clapped him lightly on the shoulder- “Great”- and left. 

* * *

B.J. loped his way across the compound slower than usual. At a comfortable short-person walking pace. When they were a bit down the road and out of earshot, he said, “I can’t think of a tactful way to say this so I’ll just come right out with it.”  
“I hope so, you got me worried. Did I do something wrong, sir?”  
“No. Nothing wrong at all. Despite what you probably think.”  
“Oh. Good. Then what is it?”  
“It’s that... you don’t need to despair of ever again finding the kind of companionship you want. If it happened before, it can happen again.”  
“Beg pardon, sir?”  
“No one will ever replace him, but Henry Blake wasn’t the only man in the army. Or Korea, for that matter.”

For a split second Radar peered up at him with that terrified look again, but just as quickly masked it. “Yeah, lucky the army sent Colonel Potter. We coulda been stuck with Major Burns all this time.”  
B.J. looked down, nodding. Tried not to grin. “Yeah. Potter’s a good surgeon and a nice man. Good CO, too. Not the same, though, is it?”  
Radar’s eyebrows drew together but all he said was “It’s okay, sir. Are we going up to the chopper pad?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Why?”  
“Quiet up there. No one around.”

They scaled the fifteen steps up the hill to the chopper pad in silence, and then stood overlooking the 4077th. B.J. turned and scanned the area. People in the camp below came and went in the warm dusk, but the chopper pad and land around were deserted except for the two of them.  
“Captain Hunnicutt?”  
“How on earth can it be ‘okay’? If it were me I’d be destroyed, but you…” B.J. crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How do you cope?”  
“Cope with what?”  
B.J. scuffed the ground with his boot. “Jesus, Radar. Cope with the fact that Colonel Blake died.”  
Radar looked off down the river toward Seoul, frowning.“He used to say that rule number one of war is that men die. And rule number two is that doctors can’t change rule number one.”  
“And that’s enough?”  
Radar squinted at the horizon for a long moment, head cocked to one side. “Sir, if you can’t fix it… you just have to stand it.”  
B.J. clenched his teeth. His chest hurt. “Radar, you are a paragon of midwestern stoicism. And that way lies madness.”  
“You got a better idea?”  
“Yeah, I do: Talk to me.”  
“About what?”  
“Henry!”  
“What about Henry?”  
“Anything! How you feel.”

Radar stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders. B.J. heard his breathing speed up as he got more agitated. Suddenly Radar stretched up to his full height, pinning B.J.’s eyes with his, face drawn, jaw tight. “How I FEEL?! Criminy! I feel like I can’t even breathe most of the time! Every time I walk into Potter’s office I expect him to be there, and every time my stomach ties in knots ‘cause he’s not. Half the time I dream about him and the other half it’s nightmares. You know I’ve tried to write to Mrs. Blake six times? I want her to know how much we all liked him, but every time, I have to tear the letter up ‘cause I get the paper all wet. Or because I-”

He stopped abruptly. Stepped back, turned away, sat on the ground. Stashed his glasses in his breast pocket. Drew his knees up to his chest, hid his face on his arms. And sobbed.

B.J. laid a hand on his back as he sat down beside him. He sat close enough that their shoulders touched, and stayed quiet.

Radar sounded like he might choke.“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”  
B.J. kept his voice soft. “For what, being a human being? Grieving? It’s really okay.”  
Radar pulled a handkerchief out of somewhere. He wiped his eyes with it, then his nose. “You know she’s got a baby boy?” (That’s all it took for BJ to start thinking about Peggy.) “I was there when the call came through last year. Half of me wants to go to Illinois after the war to help raise his family. But I don’t know if I could stand being there if I couldn’t...” That set him off again.

B.J. couldn’t imagine Mrs. Blake, so instead he wondered what Peg would think if this odd, naive, war-saddened teenager showed up on her doorstep with stories of her dead husband, offering to babysit Erin or buy groceries or do laundry or drive them into the city. What would she do? How would she feel? Would it occur to her to guess the real reason? Well, Peg might. He didn’t know about Blake’s wife.

Radar calmed some. His breath hitched, then evened out. B.J. encircled his shoulders. Radar lifted his face and wiped his cheeks. “A couple months ago, Father Mulcahy organized a party for Sister Teresa’s and everybody went all-out. Food and treats, spoon and sack races with the kids, Trapper and Nurse Able did a puppet show for ‘em, people told stories, some of us made drums out of old tubs and played around. It was a good time. Those kids are so fun.” He smiled, a little weakly. “But Henry…” The smile faded. “He’d lost a patient the day before. He’d been so relieved when Hawkeye’s cardiac-massage thing worked, and then to lose him in post-op… The party didn’t really reach him. He sorta wandered around the edges looking like someone kicked his dog. I wanted to…” Radar pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids and rubbed. “...But there were people around, you know?”  
B.J. leaned a little more into Radar's side. “Yeah. I know.”  
“I wish I had. Just…” He dropped his eyes to his knees again.  
“I’m sure he understood.”  
“Hawkeye finally got him to join us. For the tug-o-war. We were all covered in mud and he’d just started to loosen up and enjoy himself when more wounded came in. Back to the O.R.”

Radar didn’t lift his head, and B.J. let them sit in silence for a minute. He stroked Radar’s shoulder just gently with the thumb that was already there. “I doubt I can really understand the pain you’re in. I’ve never lost a lover, not like that.”  
Radar did raise his head at that, though he didn’t looked scared anymore, to B.J.’s relief. “No, it wasn’t… We didn’t... ”  
B.J. waited, but didn’t really expect him to finish the sentence. When it was clear he wouldn’t, B.J. said, “D’you think you loved him less because you 'didn't'? Or he you, for that matter?”  
Radar squinted. “What?”  
“The word ‘lover’ doesn’t have to mean sex. I mean, did you ‘not’ because you didn’t want to? Or were there other reasons?”  


Radar’s eyes got huge. B.J. scooted out of his space held up his hands in appeasement. “Okay, okay, I believe you: it wasn’t and you didn’t. Understood. But even if it were and you did,... it’s okay, you know? It’s not wrong and I’d never tell anyone. Your private life is your own and no business of the army’s. Or mine, for that matter- I just thought you’d like to know that you’re not alone. Losing a friend is way too difficult as it is. Not being able to talk about it just makes it twice as hard.”

Radar relaxed a bit. “Not alone how?”  
“I’m not saying you do, or did, okay? But I know what it’s like to love someone that the world thinks you shouldn’t.”  
“Oh yeah? Who did you? That the world thought you shouldn’t?”  
B.J. stuck his hands in his pockets and tried to look as non-threatening and understanding as possible. “Another medical student.”  
“What, was she Baptist or something?”  
“His name was Paul.”  
“Oh.” Radar actually blushed. “But you… You're married?”  
“Yup.”  
“You love Mrs. Hunnicutt?”  
“More than anything. Well, her and Erin. I miss her so much I’ve given some serious consideration to how I could steal a plane and fly home.”  
“You a pilot too, sir?”  
“No, but it can’t be harder than surgery, right?”

Radar looked out over the 4077th. The sun was getting quite low. “I thought guys who were… you know…”  
B.J. snorted. “Like married Henry Blake?”  
“I told you, we didn’t-”  
“I’m sorry, I know. Well, I can’t speak for guys who are ‘you know’, just for myself. I love Peg. I loved Paul, too."  
Radar swallowed. “Did you… ?”  
B.J. shook his head, questioning. “What?”  
“You know.”  
“Is ‘you know’ code for 'sex' this time?”  
Radar’s mouth got tight and his jaw clenched. He looked angry. “No.”  
“Oh.” B.J. blinked. “Well what, then?”  
“Did you tell Mrs. Hunnicutt?”  
“Ohhhh.” _Oh, that’s harder._ “Well… no. Maybe she suspected? I don’t know.”  
Radar just nodded.

A minute later he said, "It's almost dark. We should get back."  
B.J. nodded, stood, brushed the dust off his fatigues. "Yeah." He extended a hand. Radar took it, and B.J. helped him up.

Radar started walking back toward camp, but also said, "So you're saying what? 'Henry's dead; move on'?"  
B.J. followed him down the steps. "No. What I meant was that if you _wanted_ to move on... it's not hopeless. You're not the only one. I'm from San Francisco, remember? Believe me, you're not the only one."  
Radar pointed himself toward camp and picked up speed, clearly trying to put some distance between them. "Maybe, but when the war's over, you get to go back there. I'm goin' back to Iowa."  
"Radar--"  
He sped up even more. "Good night, captain."

B.J. stopped and watched him trot away into the night. He sighed, shaking his head, and doubted very much that he'd done a better job than Hawkeye had.


End file.
